


The King and the harp

by ChicagosLights



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, Smut, living paintings AU, slight angst and misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChicagosLights/pseuds/ChicagosLights
Summary: one night a painter mistakenly creates two living paintings by using magic silver and gold; the first meeting is filled with possible love but an incident later on causes a misunderstanding that forces a wedge between the two paintings for centuries.basically I suck at summaries, Patrick misunderstands something, and Pete is heartbroken for centuries until one fateful night; the question is, doe Patrick forgive him or does Patrick reject him for one final time?
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

There’s always stories of forbidden love; families forbidding it, curses trapping each other away from one another, two idiotic much-too young and foolish people falling in love, sworn enemies wedding one another or star-crossed lovers finding one another again. This story centers on forbidden love, the love of two paintings created by the same painter, one called _Silver King from a silent dream_ and the other _The golden harp;_ unbeknownst to him as he used bits of silver to adorn the King’s rings and gold leaf to shine in the harp’s hair the supplies he’d purchased at the market all those years ago were enchanted. That night as his paintings began to dry and finish the light of the full moon shone down on them, a soft glow of silver and gold filled the room before the two figures appeared in front of their paintings. 

The King wore robes of thick dark fur, silver jewelry adorned his fingers and wrists, a pendant with the mark of the moon and stars lay around his neck and shone in bright contrast compared to his dark skin and beads of quartz and diamond were tied in his long hair in a few braids; eyes of amber gold searched around the backroom in confusion until they landed on the other man, immediately the King’s breath was taken away. The harp was of pale skin and strawberry blond hair with gold flecks catching light, a golden circlet lay on his head with opals glistening and a golden choker around his throat with a thin gold chain along with it, his clothes looked of fine yellow silk and when the King caught his jeweled eyes he was certain the beautiful creature before him couldn’t have been real. 

The two stared at each other then, both confused about their sudden life but the King noticed the unease in the other’s eyes and felt a panic in his chest; he didn’t even know how he knew it but with the way his heart ached and raced faster than a rabbit he knew he was in love with the harp, he didn’t want the other to be afraid of him. 

“Who’re you?” that snapped the King out of his thoughts, even the harp’s voice was pulling the King further into love.

The King paused, unsure for a few moments if he even had a name, then shrugged “I’m...not sure...who might you be?” 

The harp stiffened and played with the sleeve of his shirt, he looked around uneasily before looKing back into the King’s eyes “I don’t know...where are we?” 

“I can’t say” the king paused and noticed the painting beside him, that’s right he’d...he’d been in there “maybe these can answer our questions” 

The other man frowned but looked at his own painting, while he looked at the tiny plaque that hopefully was there the King frowned in annoyance seeing that all his read was his title and a strange thing about a dream, apparently the same went for the harp hearing the scoff to his right. The two went back to staring at each other again, the harp looking even more afraid than before and the king wore an expression the harp somehow knew to be yearning; finally he spoke again:

“That was no help, yet it tells me I am a harp. Somehow I know that I’m not a harp and I know what a harp looks like…” he paused before clearing his throat, now he was looking past the king at something “maybe that table has some insight?” 

The king looked behind him to see a table where several pages and books lay open, it was the clear whoever owned this home they were standing in had decided to keep these out for tomorrow; the two moved to read through the literature, none of it really making much sense but the harp made a soft sound and showed the king a page. On it were rough sketches that resembled their paintings, beneath were the titles of their paintings and what seemed to be names.

“Patrick” the harp mumbled, tracing the writing slowly and mouthing his name a few more times before nodding “alright I...yes I suppose that fits me”

The king found his name to be fairly long and he wondered if there were paintings before him since his named had the title ‘iii’ at the end, or perhaps whoever created them had simply decided it sounded fitting of a king. 

“Peter?” Patrick asked softly, Peter looked up at him and decided Patrick looked like a puppy the way his head was titled “I like it” 

“I’m glad” Patrick snorted at that, Peter glanced back at the table feeling his face burn a little “what do you suppose we should do now?”

Patrick shrugged “I don’t know, I feel like it’s best we don’t leave this room”

“So what, just stand around then?” Peter regretted that at the glare he was given “we could go back to our homes”

“I ‘spose” though Patrick didn’t sound too thrilled at that idea he was already walking back towards his painting.

Pete mentally kicked himself, he wanted to stop Patrick now and ask if he wanted to look around the room more or maybe spend time with each other but both ideas seemed to be pointless so somberly the King started to reach out to touch his painting when Patrick squeaked out a “wait!”. He paused and looked over at the other, did Patrick want to stay out as well? He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up but…

“I-do you think I’ll...I mean do you think we can leave the paintings again? Tomorrow night?” Patrick’s eyes were hopeful and as much as Pete wanted to say yes there was something telling him otherwise, apparently Patrick realized this as well because his shoulders sagged a bit “silly of me, this must be some kind of magic. Why would we be able to see each other again so soon? I’m sorry”

Pete caught Patrick’s wrist before he could touch his painting again, blue eyes widened in surprise and gave him a quizzical look “let me give you something” 

“O...kay?” Patrick looked confused as Pete let go of his wrist only to take his hand and slip a ring on his finger “oh” 

“My promise, that when we can leave our paintings again I’ll return to you” 

Patrick gave him a look Pete couldn’t place, the King didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicked down to look at Pete’s mouth before looking back into his eyes “then..may I give you something as well?” 

Despite fully knowing it wouldn’t be a kiss when Patrick suddenly leaned closer Pete felt his heart beat faster, instead of course something was placed around Pete’s neck and when Patrick moved back he noticed the thin gold chain was missing from around Patrick’s throat; he reached up and hesitantly traced along the metal, eyes not leaving the harp’s pale skin until Patrick coughed awkwardly. Pete knew he was blushing when he looked back up but even he saw a pink tint to Patrick’s cheeks, how lovely he looked with golden hair and pink cheeks, Pete wanted to see just how pink he could make him.

“My promise” Patrick finally croaked out, stepping further back and towards his painting “that...that I’ll return to you too” 

With that both paintings returned to their dwellings; the King sat at his throne thinking of pale skin and jeweled eyes while the harp leaned out over his balcony and thought of the beautiful contrast of deep brown eyes and dark skin against silver. When the sun rose and the painter went to his workshop he was puzzled to find gold and silver dust scattered around the floor and around his sketch table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a short chapter, sorry

They figure it out then, every time there’s a full moon whatever spell locking them inside their paintings would unlock itself for the night to allow them access to the outside world; Patrick always leaves his painting first, he’d been afraid for the first few months but with Peter reassuring him they’d be fine he would wait impatiently for the other to show up. It would take Pete several minutes to appear outside his painting and usually within that time Patrick would have discovered new things the painter left in his studio or somehow written sheet music, the King would always be excited to hear what Patrick had created and the harp though shy at first would sing; the King would praise Patrick over and over about how angelic his voice was, how perfect and brilliant he was musically, and Patrick would scowl and tell him to stop (he suspected Pete did it on purpose to make him blush but truthfully Patrick did enjoy the way the King’s eyes would sparkle with delight).

The two tried spending their time together wisely (well, as wisely as two paintings could seeing as they only had the night to spend together) and within that time feelings grew between the two-or rather, the feelings grew stronger on Patrick’s end seeing as how the King seemed to be completely in love with him. Occasional hand brushing turned to wrist touching, that turned to holding hands (both painting finding later that they left gold/silver marks on each other respectively when touching skin to skin), and leaning in to each other when relaxing somewhere. Patrick felt a strange kind of safety with Pete and he wondered if the King felt the same, though with the way he looked at Patrick like he held the universe he wouldn’t doubt it; the way Pete praised Patrick or complimented him would always make his heart beat a little faster, even the occasional terrible or even lewd joke he would tell made Patrick roll his eyes fondly. 

It was one morning while the painter was wrapping up a series of landscapes he’d done for a rich lord somewhere in the country that Patrick saw another man walk up to him; curiously Patrick dared to turn his head and watched curiously as the two embraced each other, the painter pulling away and smiling, the other man saying something and causing him to laugh. He helped the painter wrap the rest of his paintings and set them in a box to be taken away, when the task was over Patrick watched the two embrace again though this time it looked more intimate with the way the painter looped his arms around the other man’s neck and the other man wrapped his arms around the painter’s waist. His curiosity turned to embarrassment as the painter stood on his toes to kiss the other man, Patrick squeaked and quickly resumed his position of looking up at the golden clouds with his hands clasped in front of his chest; outside he heard muffled speaking about mice and setting traps before the two left the studio. 

It stayed in Patrick’s head the whole day then only instead of the painter and the other man it would be him and Pete; his face would flush every time he wondered what it would be like to kiss Pete, he’d press his hands to his face until dots danced over his eyes from the pressure to try and erase thoughts like that. They persisted regardless; wondering if it’d be soft and sweet like the painter and his partner or if it’d be different, maybe hungry and rough with Pete pushing Patrick back against a wall or deep and loving yet somehow shattering all at once. Whatever was in these strange thoughts pulled memories of whenever Pete would look at Patrick’s lips, how his eyes would seem to darken and a few times he’d seen the tip of Pete’s tongue peek out to swipe over his bottom lip. 

_ Stop it you idiot, you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. What if Pete doesn’t even want to kiss you? What’s going on with you, fantasizing about someone that you don’t even know if he wants you this way! _ Despite Patrick berating himself he had a feeling that Pete would love nothing more than to kiss him and then some. 

Lucky for Patrick he didn’t have to wait long to wonder, two days passed when the next full moon came and with it a sense of determination to kiss Pete. Though when Patrick exits his painting to find the silver King waiting for him with a dazzling smile and glittering eyes Patrick’s confidence deflated completely, what if kissing him destroyed this and Pete looked at Patrick with disgust instead of-

“What’s the matter?” Patrick winced a little at Pete’s hand cupping his cheek,  _ that  _ felt more intimate than usual and made Pete back away “Patrick?” 

“There’s something I’d-there’s something I want to do but I’m very afraid you will no longer-I’m scared” Patrick stumbled over every word and felt like an idiot, he badly wanted to return to his painting

“What do you mean?” Pete didn’t look quite as worried now, more curious but still apprehensive “Patrick have I done something?”

Patrick shook his head and decided to try being brave again, he reached out and took Pete’s in his shaking one “You haven’t done anything bad, far from it. I’ve just been thinking lately and...I’m not good with words, can I please just show you instead?”

He wondered if Pete knew what he was asking to show, for a moment there was some kind of look Patrick couldn’t place but it looked almost like hope; He didn’t know if he moved or not but then  Pete's lips were touching his and Patrick felt lost in a strange whirl of anxiousness yet relief, a new thrill that made his heart pound and his palms sweat as he tangled his hands in the King’s hair. He shivered as Pete curled a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, looping his arm around Patrick’s waist and moving his lips against Patrick’s; a whole prisms worth of emotions swirled in the harp’s heart, too many colors all too fast that he felt horrible when he suddenly pushed away from Pete. He gulped in air as if he’d been held under water, the look of panic and fear on Pete’s face wasn’t missed and just as fast Patrick pulled him back into what was a more frenzied and sloppy kiss. 

“Patrick-wait just-for fuck’s sake let  _ hold on”  _

The words were mumbled and garbled as Patrick attempted to mush his lips to Pete’s; eventually the King managed to hold Patrick’s head back by cupping his face, the harp’s hand laying on his shoulders. The squished up scowl he received made him laugh breathlessly before placing a quick chaste kiss to Patrick’s lips again. 

“Was that what you wanted to show me?” he smiled down at Patrick and the harp blushed at how intimately it felt to have Pete stroke his thumb along his cheek “that you love me?”

_ Love,  _ oh how badly his face flushed at that word, Patrick could only manage to nod with a meek “yes”. Pete didn’t seem to have any words at Patrick’s confirmation, only pulled the harp into his arms and press his face into Patrick’s neck; the harp shivered and squeaked as kisses were placed along his neck, under his ear, his collarbone, and repeat. It seemed it had taken Patrick long enough to admit his own feelings to the King since now it was like all the affection he had locked away was now free to be given to Patrick; the harp wasn’t sure when they had moved but soon he was pressed against one of the windows that shone out into the garden, the coat felt soft under his fingers and he noticed faint gold dust glistening in the grey. Pete had stopped his kissing and marking in favor of nuzzling Patrick’s neck like a cat and possibly even purring unless the harp’s ears deceived him. When Pete moved away to look at Patrick again the harp looked over and felt a new blush spread over his face seeing the gold finger trails along Pete’s cheeks and down to his neck, the gold on his lips and Patrick decided that he loved seeing Pete in gold. 


End file.
